


Orange Juice

by A_lee_us



Category: Hollywood Undead (Band)
Genre: Delusions, Descriptive Work, Gen, Hallucinations, Little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-04 00:29:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14580990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_lee_us/pseuds/A_lee_us
Summary: Danny's mind and eyes haven't been working quite right, and we step into his world for just a little moment.





	Orange Juice

**Author's Note:**

> Guess what, I'm not dead.
> 
> Been horribly busy and been struggling with stuff. Kinda... didn't have the energy or time to write anything at all. Moods have been weird for the past few weeks and I decided to channel some of the strange thoughts and ideas into this fic. I'm weirded out by myself, too, don't mind me.
> 
> This is literally called 'orange juice' because there's a bottle of it next to me, plus the OJ cheer is stuck in my head.
> 
> As for my other works, well, I'll update them one day. I really... can't do anything right now. I can't even promise that I'll try anytime soon. But I'll definitely get around to doing it when my school break rolls around. I'm seriously going insane. 14 hours in school per day is killing me.
> 
> I don't know what the point of this fic was. I really don't know why I wrote it, don't know what it's supposed to mean, supposed to do. I hate that it's like this but yet... it feels right.
> 
> Enjoy?

He was standing up to fetch a glass of water when it happened.

The ground, previously cool and soothing on his bare toes, was ice. The frightfully icy floor leeched the warmth completely out from his body, numbing his bones. A chill settled over his body, a tremble working its way down his spine.

His jaw tensed as he realised the events happening. Or more of, the events that were to ensue.

Danny’s eyes slid shut.

The world was warping around him; he knew it, could _feel_ it. Could hear the buzzing hum of the walls singing, the strange plopping noises as the ground rose, could taste bitterness in his mouth as a rotten smell permeated the room.

It was slightly easier if he shut his eyes as the world transformed. Slightly. At least the walls didn’t shoot towards him and the floor didn’t swing downwards, sending his stomach tumbling into a bottomless hole as sparks shot. 

He let out a shaky breath. Opened his eyes.

Bright.

A loud, brilliant purple haze was hanging in his face. He flinched hard and stumbled backwards, away. The haze was like a smudge on a lens - but the world was suddenly entirely seen through lens. The blemish hovered, still, existing, in mid-air.

He backed away, confused. The floor squelched under his feet. He looked down.

His feet were gone - sunken into a sickly sea of red.

It was too dense to be blood - but the sharp iron smell, strong enough to make him feel light-headed, told him otherwise.

He shook his head, looking back up.

His bedroom had been simple - four neat walls, whitewashed; a simply-made bed, a wardrobe, a hat stand. He had kept the room’s design elegant, not unlike something out of an IKEA magazine. It was comfortable, easy and plain.

Everything had changed.

The ceiling was gone, lost to an open void. Stars twinkled overhead, vastness creeping out. The walls prevented his sight despite his yearn to see past the walls. It made him feel so small. So lost and lonely. He stared, stunned. The stars seemed to dance in and out of existence, a few of them swimming.

Swimming towards him.

He blinked hard again. 

No, they were lost in the void, they were not coming closer.

Or were they?

What was that tiny one doing? It looked like it was falling rapidly towards him.

The uneasiness and despair in his stomach twisted. He turned to survey what had become of his simple, plain bedroom once more.

The purple smudge was still hanging in the air, unmoving.

The walls had warped like crushed aluminium foil - crinkles and wrinkles running all over the place. Was it just him or could he actually hear the sounds of foil being smushed? He could hear the crinkling noises just by looking at the walls. He could. He swore he could.

His feet were still cold, buried in the sea of red goop.

He had just wanted a fucking glass of water. 

His hatstand was no longer there. In its place stood a gnarly dull blue tree, comically-spherical eyeballs sprouting like grapes from its branches.

Shaking his head with a sigh, he trudged forward. Wet squelching accompanied him. A low thrum and a high-pitched hissing filled the room.

There was a tickling buzz in his left arm. He glanced down.

Where his arm used to be - tattoos and all - was a warped, minimised version of it. His eyebrows shot up in alarm and he instinctively groped for his shortened appendage with his regular other arm. The left arm was shrunken, tiny, like a doll’s.

A phantom ache began to throb from it. A numbing, hurting pain, not unlike a cramp.

He cringed.

They were all just delusions. Just all part of his mind. He knew that. He knew that.  
He had relayed his delusions to Charlie. He had. Charlie had been concerned, immediately consulting Johnny on it. With the two of them clucking over him, he had been quickly dragged to see a general practitioner as the two paced, concern radiating, outside the office door.

But he hadn’t told Charlie, hadn’t told Johnny, that the bright green pills that were prescribed to him often ended up being flushed down the toilet rather than being swallowed down his throat. He hadn’t told them about how the side effects he had found online included things like weight gain and hair loss.

And, perhaps, he enjoyed the hallucinations. Maybe he did. In a strange way, he was isolated away in his mind, fully with himself, when these happened. Maybe the delusions allowed him to understand himself better. Just maybe.

Was he comfortable with the hallucinations? Not quite, but maybe.

And, maybe, they were just part of who he was.

He smiled, a bittersweet grin.

The slush on the ground gurgled in response.

“No matter what, you,” he smiled, “I’ll always love you.”

And maybe the void above flashed a brilliant light for just a split second.


End file.
